


Without reservation, without restraint

by boopboop



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Blood, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky's Coffee Addiction, D/s, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Flogging, Gags, M/M, Misuse of Amazon Prime, PWP, Pleading, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rimming, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Suspension, Top Steve Rogers, Troll Steve Rogers, Unsafe Sex, Violence, kink prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:12:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boopboop/pseuds/boopboop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boop's 60 Day Porn Extravaganza. </p><p>Chapter 1: TFA era Steve and Bucky try not to get caught. Or don't try, in Steve's case. “I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.”<br/>Chapter 2: “Are you sure that’s going to fit?” with Dom!Steve.<br/>Chapter 3: “I want to make you bleed.” Curtis/TJ<br/>Chapter 4: “Have you ever tried rimming?” Steve/Bucky<br/>Chapter 5: "Relax your throat...." Steve/Bucky with Dom!Steve<br/>Chapter 6: “Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.” Chris/Sebastian + Sub!Sebastian<br/>Chapter 7: “I’m going to fill all your holes." Steve/Bucky</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Blame [this post](http://thatotherrpmeme.tumblr.com/post/93502714362/thread-starters-kink-edition) for everything to come! When I asked for porny prompts to get myself back into the swing of things I got so many that I decided I would just do the entire list. Also, because I am clever, I figured I would aim for a 60 Day Porn Extravaganza to try get back into the swing of consistent content creation. Some will be longer than others and I will likely end up doubling up a few days here and there because I am in the middle of wedding chaos, but yes! Fingers crossed and here goes nothing!
> 
> I don't plan on posting in any particular order, but if there is a pairing/prompt you really want, let me know and I will see what I can do! <3

**_Anon requested:_ ** _ “I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.” _

 

“I don’t care if they  _ are _ watching. I’m not done with you yet,” Steve whispers the words sweetly against Bucky’s throat. He can’t escape. Not from the circle of Steve’s arms hemming him up against the trunk of an old, solid oak. He doesn’t even want to, but….

But they are on the edge of a clearing of trees. Across from them, clustered around a crackling fire, the rest of the Howling Commandos pass flasks back and forth, voices merry and buoyed by the victories of the day. Bucky knows, really, that they can’t see much of what is happening only a few feet away. Fire blindness narrows the world beyond crackling flames to shadows and darkness. They might be able to just see the bulk of Steve’s shoulders and the width of the tree. They might even be able to guess what those muscles are hiding.

They probably  _ can’t _ see Steve’s hand down the front of Bucky’s pants. Oh God, he hopes they can’t….

“Steve, no…” Bucky is mortified but not enough to put a stop to things. The darkness hides the embarrassment on his cheeks. Steve’s body hides the way his own squirms and writhes.

Steve’s hand, huge and strong and calloused, stills around straining flesh. “You want me to stop?” He asks because he always will; he is smirking because he knows the answer. “Do you think they’d take pity on you if I sent you back to them all hard and desperate? Maybe they’d lend you a hand? Or do you think they’d just watch while you get yourself off?”

“Bastard,” Bucky pushes against the weight pinning him. It’s futile and he likes that. Steve’s always been a filthy, deviant bastard and behind that angelic face brew the most wicked of thoughts.

“Or maybe I’ll let them hold you down while I fuck you?” He teases the head of Bucky’s straining cock, slow and ruthlessly sweet. He takes his time because he can. Because Bucky will let him. And because if the others do see, they’ll be more in line with Steve’s way of thinking than the Army’s. For a second, Bucky imagines it. Imagines them. Watching him. Watching Steve.

His whimpers sound shotgun loud at the edge of the clearing.

“I think,” Steve says, holding Bucky firm with his other hand. Refusing to let him thrust into the tormenting grip, “I’d let them have you when I’m done. One after the other. Or maybe all at once. Yeah… I think I’d like to see that. See you stuffed so full of cock you don’t know which way is up.” His eyes glaze over at the thought and Bucky can just imagine what he is picturing. How messy and used and fucked open he would be.

Bucky grabs wildly at Steve’s wrist. He wants more. Needs everything that Steve is teasingly withholding. He keeps his bottom lip clamped firmly between his teeth, forcing back the pleading, mewling sounds that will give them both away.

Steve pulls his hand away from his hip. Grabs his wrist. Pins it above his head, pushing him up on his tiptoes. Nudges his thighs wider with his own. And still doesn’t pick up the speed with which he jerks Bucky off. “I mean… I know how desperate you are.  _ You _ know how desperate you are. Pretty sure they know it, too.”

“Steve… Steve please….” Bucky begs. Squirms. Tries to rut against Steve’s leg. Tears cling to the edges of his lashes, pleasure and frustration and the promise of more forcing him to let down the walls he keeps so high and trust Steve to keep him safe until he rebuilds them.

Steve sees the first of them fall and kisses away trails of tears. “Shush… maybe another time, huh? Tonight you’re mine. Just mine, okay? They can watch if they want, but that’s all they get. This,” he squeezes his hands, first around Bucky’s wrist and then around his cock,  “belongs to me.”

“Yes,” Bucky whines. “Yours.”

The grip on his wrist releases and Steve picks up his pace. Moves from slow and playful fast and rough and just the right side of too much.

A body moves from one side of the campfire to the other. All they have to do is look up and they will see. Someone will. It’s inevitable. “Better be quick,” Steve purrs. “Longer it takes, the more likely they will see you like this.”

“I’m… god, I’m trying, I’m…” he is. Desperately. It’s not enough, not enough…

Steve slips a hand under the loose edges of his shirt. Reaches up. Takes hold of one small, firm nipple, and twists.

Bucky swallows a scream and comes, his whole body shuddering, held upright by the press of Steve and the solid oak. Steve works him through it, teasing sore, sensitive flesh with a pleasure that borders on sadistic. “I think they heard you,” he says gleefully. Over by the fire, the conversation has fallen silent.

Bucky trembles and tries to find some reserve of strength to tap into. He just has to convince his legs to hold him upright….

“Oh no,” Steve shakes his head, hands on Bucky’s shoulders, pushing him down to his knees until he is eye level with an impressive bulge in Steve’s pants. “I told you. I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m still not done with you.”

 


	2. “Are you sure that’s going to fit?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: “Are you sure that’s going to fit?” with Dom!Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! Day 2 and so far, so good! This one is utterly filthy by my standards, so yippee!

_**Anon requested:**  “Are you sure that’s going to fit?” with Dom!Steve.  _

* * *

 

“Are you sure that’s going to fit?” Bucky can’t see the dildo anymore, not bound the way he is. That doesn’t stop him from asking, nervous and excited and trusting Steve more than he trusts his own ability to judge what he can and can’t do. Still. He _has_ to ask. He does that: babbles when he is nervous. This time there is reason to be: he’s seen the fucking monster Steve intends on shoving up his ass.

Steve is patient. He smiles and says “I’m sure,” then snags the gag that is hanging around Bucky’s neck and pushes the large round ball into his mouth. Bucky will still try to babble, but now it is garbled, incomprehensible nonsense. He often wonders who likes it most when he has a gag in his mouth. He knows Steve enjoys the way it looks - he’s shown Bucky often enough, with mirrors and cameras and carefully drawn sketches - his lips spread wide by a shiny black ball; strained around a ring that is wide enough to fuck his mouth though; his teeth clamped around a tie or a scarf or his own underwear. They have tried lots of different things. No matter which one they pick, Bucky just enjoys the simplicity that follows. He doesn’t need to say anything and can’t, even if he wants to. He doesn’t even have to think. He just has to relax. Let go. Steve will take care of him. Steve always does.

“Better,” Steve says. He’s sat comfortably between Bucky’s spread legs. Occasionally he will run a finger lightly down the inside of a calf, or he will test the hold of silken ropes that keep long legs hiked up to the headboard. He’s bent Bucky almost double. Wrists bound to ankles, ankles pulled up sharply, dangling from the end of careful knots. He’s spread open wide and completely vulnerable to whatever Steve has in mind of him. He can break free if he wants. He might even do so by accident. Half the challenge is resisting. In staying still. Being _good_.

Satisfied nothing is hurting in ways they shouldn’t, Steve goes back to what he was doing before. Three fingers shove firmly into Bucky’s slick, stretched hole and continue to tease him open. Steve has already fucked him twice: over the edge of the bed with his ass in the air and like this, bound and squirming. It’s not just lube that helps Steve slide inside of him so easily.

Bucky moans shamelessly into the gag. He knows how much Steve likes the sounds he makes and  _ fuck _ , he’s already so sensitive, so _sore_. And Steve wants him to take even more.

Those fingers are all he gets for the longest time. Steve fucks him with them: in and out, over and over. He rubs his thumb over the stretched, swollen ring of muscle. Spreads him wider. He loves Bucky’s ass. Loves teasing it. Loves playing with it. Bucky loves it too, except for when he’s so desperately sensitive that every touch feels like a spark under his skin, ready to ignite at any second.

He’s desperate and begging and whining into the gag when Steve finally presses the dildo up against him.

It really is huge. Bigger than Steve. Bigger than anything he can remember taking, and fuck….

“Breathe,” Steve orders, pinching Bucky sharply on the inside of one trembling thigh.

Bucky hasn’t realized that he’s stopped. He takes a breath, lets it out, and his body opens up for the fake cock being shoved inside him.

“So fucking pretty,” Steve sounds awed. Proud, like he’s known all along that Bucky can do this, but still amazed at the reality. Bucky can’t think to respond, even in a muffled garble. He can’t really think at all. It’s  _ so fucking big _ ….

“It’s not even a whole inch in yet,” Steve tells him. Steve’s a fucking asshole. “Just the tip. And fuck, Bucky….”

Bucky sobs in helpless agreement. Not even an inch. Christ. Steve’s going to kill him.

There is a sudden, startling emptiness as the dildo is removed. Steve slicks it up with even more lube then pushes it back in. It goes easier this time. One inch. Two. Then Bucky starts to cry in earnest because he’s not so much in pain as he is at the bottom of a pool of utter, overwhelming sensation. Those sparks under his skin now feel like lightning about to strike and it’s not even half way. Not even close.

His dick is unbound and hard and the fake cock is so big it doesn’t so much brush against his prostate but fucking pound it. Steve draws it out all the way. Pushes it back in. Over and over. Fucking Bucky with short, shallow thrusts as he jerks and trembles and tries so hard to meet each one. His arms and legs are hurting now, more from the strain of not breaking free than the ache from how wide he is tied open. He’s drooling pathetically around the gag, but his throat feels dry; full, but not full enough. He wants Steve’s cock in his mouth while he’s stuffed full of fake dick. He wants to give everything over. He wants to give in.

The in, out, relentlessly brutal rhythm suddenly switches gear. Steve doesn’t just stop with the few inches Bucky has come to expect. He shoves the whole thing in, every last inch right up to the fake balls, and Bucky comes so hard he blacks out.

It’s only seconds, or maybe it’s hours. When he blinks through damp eyelashes, Steve is leaning over him, gentle hands on his cheek and adoring love in his eyes. ‘Hey,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the line of the gag then gently easing it out of Bucky’s mouth. “You gonna check in for me?”

Bucky chokes, barely able to remember how his mouth even works. “Green,” he says, because they both like the simplicity of it.

Steve’s smile softens even further. “Good boy,” he says, climbing up Bucky’s body until he is clutching the headboard for balance. “Now open that pretty mouth for me.”

Bucky obeys gladly, eagerly, and moans as Steve’s cock slides across his tongue. A hand fists in his hair and makes him take every inch, stuffing him obscenely full from both ends.

The dildo is tied in place with the same ropes that are around his wrists and ankles and Steve’s smile turns wicked and sadistic. “One more thing,” he says, holding Bucky in place, his mouth and his throat entirely filled. He leans back with all that gymnastic grace, reaches between Bucky’s legs and – “Now watch the teeth,” he threatens.

Bucky has a second to question the words and then fireworks explode behind his eyes.

The dildo buzzes to life violently.

Steve shoves the last of his cock into Bucky’s throat.

And Bucky finally, irrevocably, lets himself go.


	3. “I want to make you bleed.” Curtis/TJ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: “I want to make you bleed.” Curtis/TJ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written Curtis/TJ before. I hadn't even considered it until I got the prompt! So! For the sake of the story let's pretend that the Hammonds were involved in the building/commissioning/running of the train and TJ has unspecified reasons for wandering all the way down to the tail... 
> 
> Very much a PWP in the sense that it is highly unlikely two individuals like these would end up having sex quite as quickly as they do. Also, this one is pretty rough and very unsafe.

_**Anon requested:**  “I want to make you bleed.” Curtis/TJ_

* * *

He’s lucky Curtis sees him first. Anyone else would eat him alive. Hell, Curtis still might. For all that he tries to push down on the base instincts of his, he still can’t deny the blood rush of a predator sighting prey. That’s what the boy is: prey. From those soft brown curls right down to the toes of his unscuffed new shoes. Prey. Fucking  _ stupid _ prey at that.

He makes a surprised sound when Curtis grabs him by the arm. There is muscle beneath his grip, but not much of it, and it’s protected by a layer of soft, delicate flesh. “You,” he says, backing the boy into a corner and pinning him in place with his body. He’s stronger than this boy. Taller and meaner, too, and he’d wager those pretty long fingers have never thrown a punch before. “Are going to get yourself killed.”,

Doe eyes look up at him, wide and bright. Unnaturally bright. There are track marks tracing the skin Curtis is holding. A spoiled, bored little brat from further up the train, slumming in the tail, looking for… what, exactly?

Curtis shakes him. Dark curls are wild and unruly but designed to be that way. Like his soft skin, everything about him is pampered and pretty. Curtis isn’t use to pretty. He’s not used to soft. He has a scrap of velvet salvaged from the foot of a teddy-bear that has long since been used for kindling. He’s run his fingers over it so many times that all the softness has worn out. He runs his hand down the side of a bared, submissive neck: it feels like that velvet used to feel.

The boy whines at the touch, and Curtis growls. He’s baring his teeth and snarling but there’s no fear in the eyes that stare at him so intently. Expectation, yes. Want, even. But not fear. Instead, the boy’s cock is hard and swollen and brushing Curtis’s thigh.

So that’s what he’s looking for. “Run out of cocks to suck in your part of the world?” Curtis demands. He’s bitter, yes, but not enough to say no to the first sweet thing that has fallen into his hands in years.

There’s something very casually arrogant in the way the boy tilts his head in response. “They know better.”

“And I don’t?” Curtis growls.

Wide eyes blink up at him. “You don’t care.”

That’s true. He doesn’t care about much. He’s not sure exactly what the boy means, but he’s also not about to start a debate. Not when his own cock is hard and straining. Not when there is smooth, unblemished, healthy flesh being offered to enjoy himself with.

“I wanna make you bleed,” Curtis growls, his mouth over warm, naked skin. He can feel the pulse thrumming rapidly below the surface and yeah, he wants to sink his teeth in. He wants to taste the fire in this boy’s blood before he sends him back up the train wrecked and ruined and scarred.

“Yes, god, yes, please, please…” hips roll back against his own and Curtis clamps down with his hand, pinning him in place as his teeth press hard against flesh and muscle.

He can feel that slender body tremble against him as his knees buckle. Curtis holds him fast and bites down harder. He makes him scream, the sounds lost against the noise of the train. Even if people do hear, they mind their own business. The only way anyone will put a stop to them will be if they decide they want a piece of this ass for themselves.

Curtis finds himself pushing the boy harder into the wall, his fingers digging bruises into flesh. He’s willing to kill to stop that happening: as protective as he is selfish. This is his. He is not sharing, and he feels himself strangely torn between hating this spoiled, soft, pretty little thing and wanting to shelter all those things in turn. He’s going to fuck the boy so hard and so good he’ll never feel anyone else inside him the same way; he’s going to fuck the boy so hard and so  _ rough  _ that he’ll never be stupid enough to come back down here again.

Slender, uncalloused hands hurry to help him as he tugs at the boy’s waistband. For all that he is stupid, he’s probably not as young as Curtis has him pegged for. He might even be around Curtis’s age himself. Without lines of stress and hunger around his eyes and mouth, without the sickly pallor or vitamin deficiency, his tender, rosy skin just makes him look so much more youthful.

Curtis shoves him face first into the wall and drags his pants down to his knees. “Spit,” he demands, holding his hand up to the boy’s mouth. Even that gesture is delicate and refined. The sound he makes when Curtis shoves two fingers up inside him is the same. Polished. Sweet. So very polite when he’s begging for more.

“Don't think you’re getting anything else,” Curtis snarls. He’s got nothing to offer anyway. No protection, no lube. Shame burns his cheeks and anger quickly follows. He doesn’t say that for as much as he wants to fuck this boy here in the filth and the depravity of the tail, he would also give anything to lay him out on something crisp and clean and lovely and taste every sweet, supple inch of him.

“S’fine,” the boy gasps. He wriggles enticingly as Curtis spreads him open with his fingers, back arching, ass pushed out. Curtis pulls his fingers out, pulls out his cock and drags the boy back onto it with a grip in his hair and another around his throat.

The boy screams, or tries to. He can’t get much out with Curtis holding on so tightly and the sounds are just gurgles. He as soft on the inside as he is on the outside and Curtis can’t help himself. He sets the pace harsh and fast and it’s painful for the both of them. Even more painful when Curtis removes his hand from that slender throat and sinks his teeth into it instead.

The body around him spasms as the boy comes. Curtis hasn’t even given him a reach around and he’s spilling himself like a fucking teenager.

His blood is as sweet as Curtis knew it would be and it trickles lazily down his shoulder when Curtis lets him slump forward into the wall.

“This what you wanted, huh? This what you fucking came here for?” He tightens one hand and then the other into the boy’s designer curls and jerks him back sharply, holding him for each rough thrust.

“Yes!” That’s the only response he gets. “Yes, yes, yes…  _ yes _ !” Loud, but not the chattiest. “Do it again. Please!”

So polite. It would be rude not to.

This time it is the meat of his shoulder that Curtis bites into. He screams like someone is pulling him apart at the seams and that’s enough for Curtis to come. He empties himself, shuddering and moaning and he’s still balls deep in that sweet ass when something hard and heavy lands across his back.

Distracted. He’s let himself become distracted by a pretty trinket. He turns, snarling wildly, ready to rip someone’s throat out for real.

The baton hits him square across the face. The boy yelps in a different kind of pain as Curtis withdraws and falls to his knees. Another baton. And another. Then a well aimed boot to his unprotected balls. He spits blood and teeth. Goes down and doesn't come back up.

“Mr Hammond!” Voices call out. “Are you hurt? What did he do to you?” Flocks of guards rush around them and curious faces peer cautiously at them from behind bunk bed alleys and empty crates. “Throw him out! Throw him out of the hatch!” Curtis is too busy miserably clutching his screaming balls to realize that they are talking about him. 

He doesn’t have the time to defend himself. The boy - so sweet and submissive and needy - turns on the guards with fire in his eyes. “You won't touch him!”

“But Mr Hammond!”

“He didn't hurt me and he didn’t plan to. You’re the ones who attacked an unarmed man!”

Curtis is not, in fact, unarmed. He says nothing. No one defends him to the guards. No one defends anyone back here.

The admonishment sits painfully with the peacekeepers. “Your mother-“

“Will hear about your attitude!” The boy snaps. He’s fastened his clothing and glares imperiously at the gathered crowd. “My family built this train and you can be damned sure that I will walk the entire length of it front to back and back again if I so wish.”

Hammond. Thomas, or Douglas? Curtis knows exactly who the boy is now.

He fucked Bud Hammond’s son against a wall. He had the boy’s throat in his teeth and he didn’t tear it out.

He made him bleed, though. Made a Hammond bleed. Made him scream.

Those big, wide eyes don’t leave him at all as the Hammond boy is led from the carriage by a herd of agitated, terrified guards. He wonders which of them will have to tell his parents that their precious heir squirmed and begged on the end of a tail-scum’s cock.

Unless the boy is truly stupid, Curtis will never know.

But he promises himself that if he ever does make it out of here, he won’t ever be walking away from Curtis so easily again.

 


	4. "Have you ever tried rimming?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever tried rimming?” Or, Steve has very bad timing when it comes to asking personal questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short and silly and only semi-pornish. For that I apologize, but I figured a little cooldown after yesterday might be in order!

Steph picked 42! Good choice! : “Have you ever tried rimming?”

* * *

 

“Have you ever tried rimming?” Steve waits until Bucky’s head is completely in the fridge before asking the question.

The top shelf is home to only a handful of sorry looking carrots, but that doesn’t stop Bucky swearing up a storm when he collides with it. “What the fuck?” He rubs at the top of his head, pouting as if he doesn’t frequently head-butt concrete walls without complaint.

Perched atop the counter, one hand absently nursing half a mug of coffee, Steve manages to look completely unconcerned with the state of Bucky’s head. “Well? Have you?”

“Rimming?” Bucky repeats, closing the fridge door. He’s no longer interested in trying to unearth the mason jar of overnight oats Sam has been harassing him into making.

“It’s like eating out a girl,” Steve says helpfully. He lifts the mug and peers over the top of it as he takes a sip. Butter wouldn’t fucking melt. “Only with assholes.”

“I know what the fuck it is, Steve,” Bucky pinches his nose with the tips of his metal fingers and gives careful consideration to returning to bed. “Stark has been keen to make sure I understand how internet porn works. Probably a little _too_ keen, cos, you know, nobody had sex before the WWW dot became a thing.”

“So is that a yes?”

Bucky leans back against the fridge. “It’s a ‘why the fuck are you asking me this at five thirty in the morning?’.”

Steve sets his mug down carefully. “I want to try it,” he says. “And I figured it would be rude to just spring it on you.”

Because that’s not what he’s just done at all. Bucky rubs his head again. “Try it like… you wanna do it to me? Or you want me to do it to you?”

“Both?” Steve shrugs. “I just think it could be fun.”

“I think that’s the general point,” Bucky agrees. “So like… now?” Is it too early for sex? Is it _ever_ too early for sex?

Steve nods. “You wanna flip a coin or something?”

Pushing himself up off the fridge, Bucky feels a grin creep slowly across his face. “How about we just wrestle for it?” he suggests.

Steve is still looking far too serious. “So wait. Does that mean winner does the rimming or is the  rimee ? Rimmer? Rimmed?”

“Steve?”

“ Hmmm ?”

“If you don’t stop asking questions I’m gonna bend you over the counter, eat your ass until you’re crying like a baby and then ride your face until neither of us has the energy to move. If you have a problem with that I suggest you pour me a fucking coffee and let me do my crossword in fucking peace.”

He knows Steve well enough to start moving before his mouth even fully opens. Steve just about manages to say, “Does this mean no wrestling?” before Bucky pounces.

He folds over with a fluid ease that suggests he’s been building up to this all along, the sneaky fucker. Bucky just drags his sweatpants down and pins him with a hand on the middle of his back.

“Five fucking thirty,” he grumbles. “Have I ever tried rimming... you fucking bet I have.”

 


	5. "Relax your throat...."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has stopped worrying. He needs different things now, and Bucky does too. This necessary roughness works for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day six!! I am going to cheat and take the weekend off (sorry!) but my mom is getting married tomorrow and all chaos is about to unfold! I will be back on Monday with more porny goodness! <3

_"Relax your throat...."_

* * *

Steve sets the teacup onto its saucer, china merrily tinkling together. He’s come to like tea, appreciating the robustness of the flavor and the fact that it’s a lot harder to make a bad cup of tea than it is a bad cup of coffee. Especially the pigswill they hand out in rations. Peggy has taught him a few tricks.

Besides, there is something far more enjoyable in watching a cup and saucer balance precariously between Bucky’s shoulder blades instead of a battered mess tin cup.

Bucky makes a desperate gagging noise and Steve runs a soothing hand through his hair. “Just relax your throat,” he encourages.

There’s not much space on the camp bed. Just enough for the two of them so long as Steve lets one of his legs hang over the edge. The other his bent at the knee, a perfect prop for the report he is reading.

Between his legs, flat on his stomach with his hands clenching and bound behind his back, Bucky is a picture perfect distraction from the work Steve should be doing. He’s shirtless but Steve’s allowed him to keep his pants on. His boots too. As much as Steve enjoys the pale vulnerability of Bucky’s ankles poking out from beneath the edges of his pants, there is still the possibility that he will need to be up on his feet in seconds. Hence the boots. Hence the pants. Someday soon they are going to get a few days leave and Bucky isn’t going to wear a single scrap of clothing the entire time.

Steve keeps one hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and turns the page of his report with the other. Bucky whimpers and the teacup wobbles.

“Careful,” Steve warns him.

Bucky can’t quite meet his gaze from the angle he’s at, but he raises wet eyes hopefully. He’s completely under. Utterly pliant and calm. Wrists bound, held down by gentle hands.

There has been a cock in his mouth for ten minutes. Every time he tries to use his lips or his tongue to try get Steve off, Steve tugs him gently up by the hair and refuses to let Bucky put his mouth back on him until he is whining in desperation.

He loves this. Being used. Taking all of Steve in his mouth and being held there. Steve’s still hard because his stamina now is a hundred times what it used to be, but in the past it has never even mattered if he were. Soft or hard or in-between, Bucky just liked having him in his mouth. It’s harder now, and not just literally.  The serum has made him bigger all over and while he’s never been lacking, exactly, he could fill Bucky up. Now Bucky struggles to take all of him. His jaw aches and he’s always so sore by the time they are done. It feels different. Not bad. Just different.

Steve has stopped worrying. He needs different things now, and Bucky does too. This necessary roughness works for the both of them.

Bucky gags as he swallows. Steve can’t help the shudder that runs through him and his hips jerk. He hits the back of Bucky’s throat and watches the first glossy tear roll down Bucky’s cheek.

“Such a good boy,” Steve praises, rubbing a hand over the back of his head, thumbs kneading knots at the junction of his neck and shoulders. “I’ve got…” he checks, “thirteen more pages left to get through. Think you can handle that?” Bucky murmurs around his cock in agreement. The teacup stays perfectly still. “When I’m done you’re going to get me off properly, and if you do a good  job I’ll untie your hands before I tell you to make yourself come.”

This time Bucky’s moan is considerably happier. He sinks back into  bonelessness , throat loose and relaxed, his whole body sweetly supple with submission. The teacup doesn’t so much as wobble.

Steve settles a hand in his hair, not forcing anything, just anchoring, and turns back to his report.


	6. “Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.” Chris/Sebastian + Sub!Sebastian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: “Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.” Chris/Sebastian + Sub!Sebastian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd we are back! There were quite a few Chris/Sebastian prompts so here is the first! They are very loosely set in the same universe. Hope you enjoy!

**Anon requested:** _“Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.” Chris/Sebastian + Sub!Sebastian_

* * *

 

“Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.” Chris walks in a slow circle around the stage. The spotlights are so bright that Sebastian can’t see anything beyond. He knows they are there. Watching him. Wanting him. The room is warm and amber spiced, whiskey and crackling fires hidden away in alcoves surrounded by plush, overstuffed couches. Sebastian has been sprawled out on one of those couches for much of the night. Now he is here. 

Chris is a great deal newer to this kind of scene and has taken longer to find his comfort level in front of so many people. It’s been a work in progress for the both of them. This, though, ropes… well, he’s always been good with those. It shows in the way Sebastian both hurts and doesn’t. 

It’s taken nearly an hour to get him into this position and he’s been floating for most of it. Up in the air with the stars until he is up in the air for real. The spreader bar is between his knees, extended as wide as it will go. Chris has bound his ankles to his thighs, trapping the bar between them. There is no danger of him falling once it is attached to a winch above the stage and he is lifted higher and higher until he can’t reach the ground even with the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t have long to try. They are twisted up behind his back now, ropes crossed over and over until he’s held so snuggly and tight that any thoughts to try to escape have long since left him. 

The plug in his ass is thick and heavy and the gag in his mouth is equally so. Chris hasn’t blindfolded him because he wants him to see. He wants Sebastian to anticipate and know that the inevitable is coming. 

The flogger is butter soft leather but it still stings. His nipples are burning. His abs are on fire. Every so often a blow will fall on his unprotected genitals. The first time, he screamed. The second time, he started to cry. Now, before the third time, Chris pauses in his stalk around the stage and stops right before him. If he lowers Sebastian just a few inches then he can pull out the gag and fuck his sore, willing mouth. He wants that. The gag isn’t enough. 

Blunt fingernails drag themselves down red, stinging flesh, pinching a swollen nipple and rolling it between sadistic fingers. “You’re such a good boy,” Chris praises. “You’re hurting so prettily for me.” Sebastian just sobs. “You can take some more.” Sebastian can’t really nod, but he tries. He knows he can because Chris believes he can. Chris knows him better than he knows himself. Chris will never make him take more than he can handle. “Five more.”

The blood is pooling in his head and the world beyond the edge of the light does not exist. There’s only Chris. Only the whispering throb of dizziness and weightlessness and the sweetest pain. 

Chris drops a secret kiss to the inside of one tightly bound thigh then steps back and raises the flogger. 

Five more.

 


	7. “I’m going to fill all your holes.” Steve/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to fill all your holes.” Steve/Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No update yesterday but I did update A Love Like War, so maybe I can be forgiven? <3

_“I’m going to fill all your holes.”_

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“I’m going to fill all your holes,” Steve promises. On the bed, Bucky stirs from within a mountain of plush cushions and props himself up on his elbows. He and Steve are both sticky with sweat, pink cheeked and glowing. If Bucky moves too sharply he can feel a line of come tracing down his thigh. It’s filthy and decadent and while they use condoms most nights purely for convenience, he’s not about to deny that he likes the primal possessiveness in Steve’s eyes when he empties himself inside Bucky’s body.

“I’m not complaining,” he says, his cock twitching at the idea, “because that sounds like a fucking fantastic plan. But… please tell me that isn’t what I think it is?” He gestures to the package in Steve’s hand. It’s a garishly bright box, covered with stars and the famous colors of Steve’s shield.

“ _Rigorously_ _researched to give you the most accurate experience possible._ Whatever that means,” Steve reads. “It’s not like I let them take a cast or anything.”

“You actually bought a replica of your own dick,” Bucky says.

“From Amazon. It was on Prime.” Steve beams proudly as he unwraps the dildo. “I used Tony’s account.” Bucky delights in the idea of Tony being sent email suggestions based on his recent purchases, then gapes at the monstrosity Steve unveils from the plastic casing.

“Holy fuck,” he exclaims.

“Well, now I feel inadequate.”

Aside from being several shades paler than Steve’s actual dick, the dildo is ridiculously large. “Where the fuck do they think you keep that monster? They’ve seen your uniform, right?”

Steve holds the dildo up in contemplation. “Do you think you even could... you know?”

“What?” Bucky scoffs. “Of course I fucking can.’

“Yeah?” Steve is adorably hopeful when his eyes light up. He curls his fingers around the base of the dildo. He makes most things look small when he holds them, but it still manages to be impressively unrealistic. For a second Bucky wonders if maybe this _is_ pushing his ability to take cock like a pro, but any doubts vanish when Steve crawls back between his legs and rubs a finger over slick, swollen flesh. “Do you want it in your ass or your mouth?” It’s going in one and Steve is going in the other, that much goes unspoken. Both have merits.

“Mouth,” he says eventually. He’ll always prefer the taste and the texture and the feel of Steve in his mouth, but there is something slightly humiliating about deep throating a rubber dick while getting fucked in the ass. It’s a kink he likes more than Steve does, so he will take the chance to indulge in it whenever it arises.

Steve just grins at him. “Okay,” he says, pinching Bucky’s thigh sharply. “Get on your front.” He moves aside so Bucky has the space to maneuver himself, then straddles the back of his thighs.

Bucky expects maybe the teasing exploration of fingers in his ass before Steve pushes himself inside, or maybe the brush of something across his lips before he’s being made to open up and take the fake dick into his throat.

He doesn't expect Steve to pull both his wrists behind him and bind them tightly. He grunts as the angle pushes him deeper into the bedding and whines when he tugs on the bonds. They don’t hurt. His shoulders are flexible enough that the strain doesn’t bother him much – yet – and the rope is silky soft. He’s just….

Steve runs a soothing hand down his side. “Okay?” he checks.

Bucky can say no here, and Steve will untie him, no questions asked. He doesn’t want to. “Okay,” he agrees.

He barely has a moment’s notice before Steve whispers a soft word of praise, then enters him with one sharp, decisive thrust. Bucky’s already slick and open and Steve slides into him so smooth and easily. He’s sore though, and that sudden spike of glass sharp sensation only makes the pleasure that much richer. Just as he enjoys a little humiliation, he enjoys a little pain as well.

He can’t do anything but take it as Steve starts to fuck him, slow and leisurely. He’s bound and pinned down and there is nothing to do but pass over control. He opens his mouth willingly when Steve shoves two fingers against his lips. They give him something to focus on while his body jerks helplessly, held down and overwhelmed. He sucks the same way he would suck Steve’s dick and he whines when they vanish after only a few seconds.

“Open,” Steve instructs, reaching around and pressing the dildo to Bucky’s mouth. He’s stopped thrusting. He’s buried balls deep in Bucky’s ass and just holding himself there with no care for how desperate Bucky is beneath him. ‘I’m not stopping until you’ve taken all of it.”

Only the head is in Bucky’s mouth and already that’s enough to make his head spin. He wants more and he can take it, but god….

Steve’s hand curls gently around his throat, holding him steady as he feeds the fake cock to him one excruciatingly slow inch at a time.

When he stops, when Bucky is stuffed so full, breathless and boneless, he ducks down and lays a gentle kiss behind Bucky’s ear. “I told you,” he whispers, closing his hand over the end of the dildo and holding it in place as he starts to fuck him again, “now show me how much you can take.”

 


End file.
